Welcome to Panem
by Josephm611
Summary: Panem. The Capitol, ringed by 12 unique districts. Each one is different, from the major industry to the culture, but all of them are painfully ironic. A series of 13 one-shots.
1. District Twelve

**A/N Hello, and welcome to** _ **Welcome to Panem.**_ **Welcome to welcome to...**

 **Whatever.**

 **This is a 13-part oneshot series about the districts of Panem, the 12 Districts and the Capitol. I won't include District 13 because technically, it isn't part of Panem. This is what I think Panem is like at the time of the 65th Games, and I hope you enjoy! Keep in mind that this is a side project; my focus will be on my SYOT and two collabs.**

 **District Twelve**

Smoke rises from the many chimneys, and candles and gas lamps are being lit throughout the town in District Twelve. The dirty streets are starting to fill with people crossing through to the coal mines. Their faces are weary, and there's coal dust between their fingernails, in their black hair, and even on their clothes. Hopelessness is written on their faces and reflected in their eyes.

In the houses, the lighter-colored residents pay them no attention. Some are starting breakfast, a few women are brushing their blonde hair.

In one of the small bedrooms behind the bakery, a little blond boy, about seven years old, climbs out of bed and washes his face, staring into his own blue eyes. He smiles and runs down the stairs, breathing in the warm, homely smell of bread. When he's in the kitchen, his father, with his kind eyes, gives him a bit of bread to knead before eating his breakfast. His mother is out buying groceries; he can have a bit more than usual. The father looks to the back door, hoping that the hunter will stop by now, rather than later. Generally, Town and Seam don't get along.

On the other side of tiny, tiny, District Twelve, in the slum-like Seam, a mother shakes her young daughter awake, looking into her grey eyes and brushing her black hair away from her face before tying it into a braid. The girl yawns before getting up, and she plants her feet on the hard, uneven dirt floor and washes her face. Her father has a little more than two hours before he has to report to the mines; they have time to hunt.

She quietly slips out of the house with her father, careful not to wake her sister, and he leads her under the dead fence and into the woods. He teaches her the plants and the animals, the food and the poison, and the beauty of nature. Little does she know that this quality time will, in the future, save her life.

Meanwhile, others are not so fortunate. A blind man, deathly pale, lies helpless in the streets. People pass him by, knowing that they cannot possibly afford to help him. A boy in the Community Home is beaten for just wanting a bit more food. The mayor's daughter cries at her mother's bed, knowing that her mother could leave her at any time without warning.

A man is found dead in the streets, starved to death. A woman coughs and coughs in a small shack, her lungs suffering from the coal dust that has settled in them. The fence around the district is like a prison, keeping then from the bounty outside. They know that they don't have to worry about beasts, the fence keeping them safe, but they still starve.

District Twelve, where you can starve in safety.

 **A/N To be honest, that last line, taken from the book, is what inspired me to write this fic. You'll see what I mean.**


	2. District Eleven

**A/N Hello! Thank you to Reader Castellan, Dame Selena, and santiago. poncini20 for reviewing and Reader Castellan and fangirl246010 for following! I greatly appreciate it, and it really encourages me. I said that this was a side project, so that's why there was such a gap between the previous chapter and this one. Let's visit District Eleven.**

 **District Eleven**

When the sun rises upon the huge fields of District Eleven, people are already up, laboring in torchlight, working to harvest all the crops. They still have a few more hours to complete before the next shift comes on. They adeptly pick the tomatoes and dig up tubers. Corn that produces three times a year is plucked by men and women, boys and girls, young and old. Sweat runs down the side of their darker skin, and it only increases once the warmth of the sun banishes the coolness of night.

In a neighboring field, a strong nine-year-old boy works beside his older sister, pulling up the greens. They work carefully, every so often, she nervously glances at the stern peacekeeper standing at the end of the row. The boy doesn't mind though, he knows that the Peacekeepers don't really care about the crops as long as they're harvested. He doesn't know what Peacekeepers might do.

Meanwhile in the shabby, run-down residential sector, a woman goes into labor. Her husband has to work, so her little three-year-old daughter runs to get the doctor.

"Mama need you!" the little girl says, "Pwease!"

The doctor moves quickly, but he can't help but smile at the little girl. He follows her to her home to deliver the baby.

A few hours later, a horn rings in the fields, signalling the end of the shift. The boy follows his sister onto the truck they use to ride home. He brushes his hand on the wild grasses growing by the road before he enters the truck and they close the door behind them. He stands in the darkness, since there's no room for anyone to sit, waiting to get home.

The truck pulls into the pickup spot, and the Peacekeepers open the door, letting them all out. They walk home silently. His family was never one to talk, at least, since his mom died and his father ran off. As they walk by a row of shacks, they hear the wailing of a newborn baby. He smiles.

Meanwhile, inside the shack, the little girl watches her baby brother, fascinated. He cries and cries, but as the mother rocks him in her arms, he slowly falls asleep. The girl asks to hold him, but her mom doesn't let her. The door opens, and the father comes in, tired from a long night at work. He picks up swings the girl playfully, and creases from laughter cross his worn, tired face.

But later in the day, when his little girl is out playing with the neighbors, the parents talk.

"Old man Tucker died last night. He tried to eat one of the apples we were picking and got shot. He probably hasn't eaten in a week. It's a miracle he lived til today."

"There was another whipping in the square because a woman tried to steal a few heads of corn. She has four children! And her man, who knows where he is? They say that the poor woman won't live."

They both sigh, knowing that there are hundreds upon hundreds of these cases every day. They are powerless, unable to do anything against the trigger-happy Peacekeepers lurking around every corner. This is what they know and have always known.

District Eleven, where farmers die trying to eat the fruit of their labor.

 **A/N Any predictions for District Ten?**


	3. District Ten

**A/N Welcome to District Ten! My favorite District! Enjoy… or not, considering that this is Panem and Panem is depressing.**

 **Thank you to StellaSlomp for following and favoriting!**

 **District Ten**

Roosters welcome the rising sun with calls and cocka-doodle-doos—but there's no one there to hear them, save for a few tired security guards, yearning for the moment when they get to go home. Most of the population lives in the cluttered and cramped central city, crammed together, away from the outlying livestock farms. Men and women alike gather at certain stations, where huge trucks pull in and the people are herded in. They are released at the farms, where they'll be until nightfall.

Meanwhile, kids gather at the schoolhouses. An eight-year old girl skips rope with a group of friends. A group of kids are snickering at another boy hobbling his way to the door. He was born with a bad foot; it isn't his fault, but they don't care. He tries to pretend they don't exist. The girl feels bad for him, but she doesn't do anything.

The bell rings, and the school day has begun. Everything they learn about is related to animals, whether it be basic biology or the art of handling animals. Halfway through, a stern man enters and asks for the girl. Nervously, she follows him to the Principal's office. She's told that her mother has finally succumbed to the disease that's been afflicting her for months. In a few weeks, she's teasing the crippled boy too.

The day begins to wind down, but the market is just getting started. In the cramped streets of District Ten towns, people set up vendors and sell/barter everything from trinkets to snacks. Peacekeepers keep a wary eye on them, but they leave the people alone, just like the people leave them alone. The Capitol is left out of sight, out of mind, and to them, everything seems okay.

But it's not. In the huge dusty slums adjoining the town, disease runs rampantly, most of it transmitted by the animals that give them a living. A little girl stands helpless, watching her family fall apart. Her mother dies from the disease. Her father might as well be dead with grief. A gang of homeless teens raids any house that seems rich. An old man, without any kids or any use to society, lies at a street corner, begging for money and food. They say it's a wonder he's survived this long; without the neighbors' help, he would be dead. People try to ignore these things and move on with life. They live in a state of denial, looking at the vibrant market and the economy, which is growing painfully slow. They say everything will be all right.

However, this denial never lasts. Every year, two kids are taken to slaughter. It hits especially hard, as they know what real slaughter is like. There's no option involved, no complaints or objections allowed. Some way or another, the pig ends up chopped up and packaged. Some way or another, two tributes are taken to the Games every year.

And deep down, as much as they try to forget, they know that they're only animals to the Capitol, killed and served at a moment's notice. And they hate it.

District Ten, where butchers and ranchers are rounded up for slaughter.

 ** **A/N I'm sorry that the chapters are so short. This is my problem with one-shots.****

 ** **Next stop: District Nine. Any thoughts on Ten or predictions for Nine?****


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